


1997: What Are You Made Of?

by angelfish_a_gogo



Series: And Through the Years You've...(side stories) [1]
Category: Jrock, Kuroyume, Penicillin (Band)
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, POV First Person, Semi-Public Sex, bandom hierarchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelfish_a_gogo/pseuds/angelfish_a_gogo
Summary: "You're just too fucking perfect."





	1997: What Are You Made Of?

**Author's Note:**

> A companion fic to "1995: There Can Be Only One".

He’s such a prick.

I know, I know; I’m supposed to respect those who’ve come before me, but dammit if Kiyoharu doesn’t make it difficult. I can get along with anyone and everyone, and even the people who I don’t necessarily care for don’t get under my skin as much as he does.

Look at him: Leaning against the wall, watching the show while bringing a lighter to the stick balancing precariously on his bottom lip. 

I want to knock that cigarette right out of his mouth. 

The only reason I’m even here is because of Kiyoshi-san. I’ve seen roadies cycle in and out due to the levels of abuse they’ve suffered both at the hands of their senpai and their friends, but he’s never let anyone touch my bandmates or me. 

But out of everyone who’s gotten a kick under the table, a sneer, or even A Look for even thinking of being rude to me, none of it has ever mattered to Kiyoharu. And just my luck, guess who happens to be one of his closest friends?

I have to play it cool; put on my poker face and smile. And I do it well. Despite being so young, I’ve amassed a good amount of people, including my seniors, who always comment on how even-keeled I am. A great drinking partner. Cool as a cucumber. Always up for a good time, etc.

Except with him.

Whenever he speaks in that dismissive tone of his, I suppress the urge to dig my nails into my palms. And then whenever his eyes slide over to stare at me, I swear he’s challenging me to buck up to him. He only relents when Kiyoshi shoves at him, but he relents with a laugh. Like making me upset is a game to him. 

He never fucks with anyone else; just me. 

I’ll often feel his eyes on me — burning into my skin when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I’ve caught him a few times, but the last time he looked my way, I held eye contact. In return, he gave me a lascivious wink. I looked away quickly and had to act innocent in light of Gisho’s gentle questioning. 

Kiyoshi tells me to ignore him because he enjoys looking for a rise. That by giving in, he wins, basically. It’s a little fucked up. It reminds me of a conversation, one of several, we've had over the past few months:

_My eyes bored into Kiyoshi’s, who looked tired, bored, and annoyed all at the same time. A seamless combination that only he could pull off. “You already know what I’m going to tell you; let it go.” he told me (commandingly)._

_“Okay, but he’s an asshole and I’m tired of him throwing barbs and not being able to do anything about it.” I (kinda, sorta) whined._

_“And I get that, but I can’t have you wringing his neck.”_

_“Have you wrung a few necks?” I bit back in an accusatory tone._

_“I sure have,” he replied nonchalantly, “What’s your point?"_

_I growled softly at the hypocrisy and then looked down at the table in front of us, feeling slightly chastised after his frown deepened. “So, I’m just supposed to put up with his relentless jackassery?” I continue, in an albeit softer tone, "And have you seen the way he looks at me? What am I supposed to do about **that**?”_

_I looked back up at him after a few moments of silence. Kiyoshi blinked and suddenly he looked very alert, “I'm…” he began, “Sure you’ll think of something that’ll keep you out of trouble.”_

And then he gave me this expression that I still haven’t managed to figure out, but right now it feels like permission. Or at least, I want it to be. 

So, it is. 

I need another drink.

—

Kiyoshi stumbles off stage at the end of his set and right into my waiting arms with a laugh. I throw my arms around his slight frame and swing him around in a circle. I set him back down and jokingly pout at the playful swat he gives me. He’s quickly swarmed by some of his friends, and I bow slightly before stepping back. 

I came, I saw, I got rocked; time to head out to a bar — who’s poking me?

I turn around, look down, and find myself staring at my absolute favorite person. Fucking hell. Pull back, play it cool. Do not sneer, do not —

“Come with me.” he says, before turning on his heel and marching away from me.

Uh, what?

My eyes narrow at his retreating back and then I slide them over to look back at Kiyoshi. He seems to be wrapped up in whatever Chirolyn-san is animatedly babbling to him about. 

Fine then. 

I can see Kiyoharu is weaving through wide-eyed fanboys and girls, old friends, and strangers without a single glance, while I can’t stop myself from saying hello to anyone I recognize. 

Where the hell is he going?

Finally, I get past the throngs of people to see him leaning against an unmarked door and tapping his foot. My blood pressure rises a bit at the sight.

“Kiyoharu-san,” It comes out too rough. I wet my lips and try again, “Kiyoharu-san, is there something you wanted to talk about?” There we go; nice and polite.

He smirks. 

I discreetly rotate my right wrist to release the tension.

Kiyoharu gives me one last look and walks through the door he was leaning against. I’m…at a loss here. I look around, no one seems to be paying me any mind. I look for Kiyoshi, but I can’t spot him over the crowd and dim lights. 

So…I walk through the door, too. 

And in a flurry, the door is slammed shut behind me, my back is against the door, and there’s a hard press of lips against my open, shocked mouth. 

What!

My brain is nearly short-circuiting, while my body grows warmer. There’s clearly a body against my own. Sharp hips; small, bony fingers; soft, no, plush lips; a hot, wet tongue. It can only be him, but —!

I push him off, panting as I hold him at bay, “K-Kiyoharu-san, what are you doing?"

He knocks my hands off of his shoulders and rolls his eyes, “You’re a fucking idiot.” 

Are. You. Kidding. Me.

“I’m a fucking idiot?” I hiss, raising a finger to stick in his face (which he snaps his teeth at), “You ask, no demand, that I come with you without a single explana-- _oh fuck_."

Somehow, in the middle of my righteous anger, he managed to unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip my jeans, and slip a hand in to grip me through my boxers.

I’m so upset at myself for responding positively to that.

“No, not a single explanation and yet, you still followed me like a good, little kouhai.” He replies while still gripping me tightly. His thumb makes smooth circles, and I’m trying my damnedest to fight this losing battle. His eyes move to roam over my face before resting on my eyes, and it’s as if he’s trying to explore the very depths of my core. “I don’t know why I thought you had a little more fight in you."

A little more fight... 

I shove him off of me and he stumbles back into a chair. His chest is heaving and he looks up at me with these wild, glittering eyes, and his mouth parted in a grin. Without a second thought, I wrap one hand around his throat and just hold it. 

My body is shaking.

Kiyoharu purrs a little, I can feel the vibration under my hand. He cranes his neck up, "What are you waiting for? Fucking do something.” Then he scoffs, “Unless...you need your precious senpai to come in here and tell you want to do?” He then blows me a loud, wet kiss. 

Fuck it.

I throw myself at him and slam my mouth against his. The only thing keeping the chair from tipping both of our dumbasses onto the floor is the wall immediately behind him. One of his hands fists my hair tightly, a little too tightly, while the other one grips at my tee-shirt, pushing it up my chest and baring my stomach. I move the hand holding his neck to grip at his chin, hellbent on bruising his lips as a vehicle for my frustration. 

The hand gripping my hair yanks me off of his mouth, and I cry out in pain, stumbling backwards to get away from the source. Before I can get away too far, Kiyoharu’s got both hands on my hips and he’s pulling me down onto his lap. 

Unfortunately for him, he receives an accidental knee to the groin and I hear him groan softly. Inwardly, I chuckle.

Turns out I also did that out loud, and I receive a quick pinch on the hidden pressure-point in my inner thigh. It fucking stings and the one hand left on my hip keeps me from flying out of his lap.

His other hand moves back inside of my jeans, cupping my balls dangerously. I stop squirming immediately and stare at him, wide-eyed. He rolls them softly and I am trying my best to keep my hips from twitching, my breath even, and my eyes directly on his.

“Do you know why I like to tease you so much?” Kiyoharu asks gently, though he’s panting a little and I can see the edges of a smirk ghosting his lips. I don’t answer; I can hardly breathe. He continues, “Because I want to see the real you, Hakuei. You’re just too fucking perfect."

“That…is an incredibly fucked up way to think.” I manage to breathe out, and he grins. The hand gripping my hip smoothes itself over my lower back and his other hand moves back up to free my cock from the confines of my boxers, and he starts coaxing it further into hardness. I’m swallowing any and all sounds trying to force themselves past my throat. 

“Why don’t you show me the real you, hmm? You during your, “ A twist of the wrist and I’m canting forward with a gasp, “Most intimate moments. You when no one is looking.” He then leans forward, lips ghosting mine, “When _he_ isn’t around.”

I glare down at him, “You’re a fucking freak.” I spit out. He just grins and replies cheekily, “Well, you’re right about that.”

And then he’s jerking me off quickly, and hell, expertly. Each pull upwards ends with a grip of a pinky and his thumb is spreading around the precum. I can distantly hear the roar of the audience behind that door from my position with our foreheads touching. He moves to latch his mouth onto my neck and I can feel him licking, nipping, and dragging his teeth from just below my ear to the juncture between my neck and shoulder. I’m trying to keep calm but my mind is getting foggy, I’m sucking in air like it’s freshest thing on earth, and I can’t stop moving. 

The hand on my lower back slips below the waistband of my boxers and gets a good handful of my ass, and that, coupled with the older man’s other ministrations, gets him the reaction he’s looking for. My head tips back and I groan deeply. Fearing that I’ll, somehow, be heard, I bury my face into his neck and sink my teeth into his collarbone, which is free and bare from his unbuttoned shirt. His hips buck against mine and he lets out this stuttering moan. The way he sounds is sort of like how he sings, throaty and rough. I don’t think I’ll forget it anytime soon.

I can feel that familiar twinge in my lower belly, as he breaks to spit on his hand and then work my cock even faster. The grip even tighter than it was before. I base a hand onto the wall behind us, as I spread my legs wider, giving him more access and more room for my hips to undulate as they please. Looking down, I can see that he’s slouched enough forward that his groin is flush against mine with every downward rock of my hips. He’s staring at my cock like it’s a meal, and I can’t suppress the shiver that runs through my body.

His eyes flicker up to mine, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen them look so dark. That hand that was kneading my ass like dough shoots up to grip the back of my neck and then our lips are crushed against each other. That rough treatment was, apparently, exactly what I needed because I feel my body tighten and release as our tongues do battle. He strokes me the whole way through it, swallowing my moans as I come down. I slide away from his mouth and lean my head on his shoulder, my chest heaving. During my haze, I can feel him jerking off and then I’m slightly jostled forward from the strength of his orgasm. 

I move to quietly stand up and he stops me. Before I can question him, he’s pulling out napkins from his back pocket and I **cannot** believe this. 

“You _planned_ this?” I gasp, sitting up straight, and Kiyoharu laughs with that rasp of his. “Hmm, maybe?” he murmurs before leaning forward to lick my stomach clean of our mess. He has both hands locked again on my hips, keeping me in place as his tongue smoothes over my belly button and up my chest. He then leans back, licking his lips, and looking the very definition of “satisfied". 

I snatch the napkins upon breaking free of that pleasurable trance, clean the rest of myself up, and stuff myself back into my pants. He’s wiping at himself lazily, not physically watching me, but I can still feel the weight of his presence. 

It gives me pause. What does he expect me to do now? Something like, you jerked me off, now let’s share our life goals and home addresses?

“Kiyoharu-san?” I ask softly. 

He doesn’t deserve to know who I am. 

“Hmm?” He picks his head back up to look up at me.

I paste on a placid smile and bow deeply, “I hope that you enjoyed yourself, and that your curiosity has been sated.” 

He blinks and then erupts with laughter. It continues when I exit the room, shutting the door quickly behind me. I close my eyes to reorient myself to the crowded room, which seems to have only increased in density.

Three.

Two. 

One.

“When did you get here?”

My eyes snap open and I nearly jump out of my skin when I’m greeted with Kiyoshi staring deeply at me with eyes full of suspicion. 

“Where were you? I’ve been looking for you for almost half an hour.” He demands, looking me up and down. I grin sheepishly, “I was —“

The door swings open behind me and Kiyoharu emerges looking pristine, or as pristine as one can look from fucking on a chair just a few minutes ago.

“Hey, Kiyosh’.” he says as he slides past us and disappears into the crowd. Kiyoshi’s mouth is nearly on the floor as he stares up at me. I shrug. 

“So, uh, I thought of something. Or he did. Whatever."


End file.
